


Melt Me With Your Gaze

by FindingSchmomo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Confessions, Fantasizing, Fluff, Gay Panic, Glasses, High School, Love Confessions, M/M, Oikawa Tooru Wears Glasses, Rated teen for Iwaizumis naughty (non graphic) thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 09:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: “Don’t play dumb with me Iwaizumi Hajime!” Oikawa cries. “You were staring at me the whole time!”“You’re a moron. I was staring at you because you’re fucking hot,” Iwaizumi snaps back.--aka: Oikawa wears glasses and Iwaizumi has a Gay Panic over it





	Melt Me With Your Gaze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosings/gifts).

> thank you Rosings for requesting this story from me! the world needs more glasses oikawa. you have done us all a great service.

Iwaizumi groans, leaning his forehead against his desk. The wood feels cool against his forehead, especially after a long day of classes frying his brain. 

Iwaizumi isn’t _bad_ at classes. In all respects he’s pretty good. You don’t get into Aoba Johsai unless you can get high marks in your subjects, regardless of athletic scholarship. It just takes Iwaizumi time. It’s hard for him to focus in class, or to grasp the subjects just from hearing them.

He needs to read it over a few times, better yet—get his hands on it. He’s always learned best when he can actually interact with with the subject, touch it, manipulate it. 

A shot of ice hits the back of his neck, forcing his back to arch involuntarily and a loud gasp to escape his mouth. He sits up, quickly covering the wet spot with his hand. 

Oikawa hovers over him, a shit eating grin plastered on his face and a Boss coffee can in his hand. He giggles, “Wakey, wakey, Iwa-chan!’

Iwaizumi squints at him, lip pulling up in disgust. 

Oikawa quiets down, “Iwa-chan! Don’t pull that ugly face! Did you forget about cram school?”

Iwaizumi blinks, sour expression dropping in favor of looking at his phone for the date. _Shit_. “Shit.”

Oikawa tuts at him with a flick of his tongue against his pearly white teeth, “What would Iwa-chan do without me?”

“I thought it started next week,” Iwaizumi mutters, standing up with a sigh. 

Oikawa hums, “I’m gonna tell Auntie you tried to skip.”

“Fuck off, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi huffs, “This is your fault.”

“What? That I don’t want you to fail all your exams and end up living on the street?” Oikawa asks, offended. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “You just didn’t want to go alone, asshole. So you got it in my mom’s head I need this shit too.”

Oikawa sticks his tongue out, pinching Iwaizumi’s jacket at the shoulder to tug him forward, “You’re the one who needs cram school, not me. It’s only fair.”

Iwaizumi smacks the hand away so he can shoulder his backpack. He can’t even come up with a good retort because Oikawa isn’t necessarily _wrong_. He and Samazaki in class 3-B are always neck and neck for the top of the class in academics. Oikawa’s going to be just fine in entrance exams. 

But Oikawa’s mother has always been one to demand absolute excellence from her son. 

“Do you know the way?” Iwaizumi asks, pulling out his phone as they leave the school building. He’s already got the map app up to start navigating.

“Most of it,” Oikawa replies, steering them down toward the train station. “I know what stop, at least.”

“Useless,” Iwaizumi sighs, without much bite. He offers up his phone so Oikawa can read over the directions it prompts and nod. 

The train is packed when they get on and so they’re forced to stand. Iwaizumi ends up pressed tight against Oikawa’s side, chin digging into Oikawa’s shoulder. At least it’s Oikawa and not some stranger. At least Oikawa smells good. 

He shouldn’t think about that.

They reach the cram school just in time for the lesson to start but unfortunately not in time to get a good spot. The only two seats free that are next to each other are all the way in the back. Oikawa seems to hesitate and Iwaizumi is ready to smack him if he so much as _thinks_ about abandoning him after basically convincing his own mom to make Iwaizumi come here. 

But Oikawa doesn’t say anything and trudges over to the two empty seats. They sit down and place their bags on the floor as softly as possible. Iwaizumi starts shuffling through his bag for a spare notebook. He hadn’t really prepared to come here. He grabs his literature one, flipping it upside down and starting it up on the back. 

Oikawa has his stuff out. He has an obnoxious pink pen with a sculpted plastic cupcake where the clicker should have been. It must have been a gift from one of his admirers. Iwaizumi gets ready to make fun of him for it. 

But then Oikawa does something else. 

He reaches for his bag for...for a black case. And then, carefully, hesitantly, he opens it. He hitches his shoulders up a little, as if he can feel Iwaizumi’s stare, trying to shield himself from it. He’s not successful, so Iwaizumi is able to watch him pull out a pair of black framed glasses and slide them onto his face. 

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen and he is unable to look away. His brain short circuits, firing synapses into the abyss. Oikawa wears glasses. Oikawa wears _glasses_. When did Oikawa start wearing glasses? How did he not know that Oikawa wears glasses? 

Oikawa flicks his brown eyes at him, and they pin Iwaizumi in place, the effect only magnified by the clear glass between the two of them. His throat feels dry seeing Oikawa like this. The goofy youthful face and bratty attitude feels distant. The glasses bring out Oikawa’s sharp edges, his jawline, his cheekbones. They make him look sterner, more serious, grown up. 

Hot.

Iwaizumi tears his gaze away, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand, _Oh my God, he’s _**_Hot._**

And then he remembers.

* * *

When Oikawa and Iwaizumi are in middle school, Oikawa’s grades start to slip. For any other student it wouldn’t even have been considered slipping, really. Oikawa goes from Straight As to Straight As and one B+. One. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t see how this is a big deal. He mostly gets B+, an A in history and the occasional B in his dreaded English class. Oikawa is overreacting. And he tells him this over and over again as they walk to their homes. Oikawa doesn't stop shaking the entire time.

Iwaizumi’s house presses tight against Oikawa’s and sometimes he can hear through the wall if the Oikawas’ are being particularly noisy. He knows a lot about Oikawa’s sister and her boyfriend she talks to on the phone. 

But that night he doesn’t need to press his ear against the paint to hear the shouting Oikawa receives from his mother. It’s loud enough that his own mother pulls him aside to the living room and lets him watch TV later than usual. 

Oikawa doesn’t come into school the next day. He doesn’t even come to practice in the afternoon. Their coach asks Iwaizumi where he is but for once, Iwaizumi doesn’t know. 

He ends up leaving practice early himself. He had been distracted the entire time, unable to spike anything on target. His coach had sent him to the showers early, and Iwaizumi had decided to just leave without bothering to wash up. 

He walks from Kitagawa Daichi all the way home by himself. The walk is longer in silence, the sky cloudier, the wind a bit harsher.

When he gets home he goes a few steps further so he can knock on Oikawa’s house instead. 

Oikawa’s mother answers and smiles. 

“Hi Auntie. Is Tooru home?” Iwaizumi asks.

She opens the door wider, “He’s in his room. He could use some cheering up.”

Iwaizumi frowns, prying his shoes off as quick as he can so he can dart up the steps. Normally, he just bursts into Oikawa’s room—normally, the door isn’t even closed. But trepidation claws his stomach lining and his hand forms a fist to knock on the door. 

“Go away, Mom!”

Iwaizumi huffs, “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not your mom!”

There’s the sound of sheets rustling and feet stumbling before the door creaks open. Iwaizumi catches sight of Oikawa’s face in the crack the door leaves. He waves. Oikawa opens the door more before turning away to face-plant back on top of his bed. 

Iwaizumi puts his book bag down, only now realizing he left his gym bag in his locker back at the school gym. His mom is going to yell at him. He could go run back to school and grab it before they lock the gate. But he’d have to run over now.

On the bed Oikawa looks miserable. He’s wearing ratty clothes he would not be caught dead in at school. He hasn’t even combed his hair today, leaving it messy atop his head. The sight of him like this, although fertile for good teasing and good jokes just leaves Iwaizumi feeling queasy with worry. He decides he can take the tongue lashing tonight and stays put.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. 

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with me,” Oikawa snaps back, offended. 

Iwaizumi raises a brow and comes forward, starting to poke at the boy’s legs, climbing up to his stomach, jabbing here and there while Oikawa writhes and shouts at him to stop. 

Oikawa finally manages to roll away, “What are you doing!?”

“Checking to see if you’re hurt somewhere, dumbass,” Iwaizumi huffs, smacking the boy’s leg where he can still reach it, “Why else would you miss school?”

Oikawa hugs his pillow to his chest. 

“If you’re not hurt then are you sick?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa shakes his head.

“Why did Auntie let you stay home then?”

“I had to go to the doctor.”

“You said you weren’t sick!”

“I’m not!” Oikawa shouts, flinging the pillow at Iwaizumi, managing to have it hit the center of his chest with a soft thud. “It’s stupid, okay!”

Iwaizumi brushes the pillow off himself in order to climb onto the bed, “Why are you being so secretive?”

Oikawa picks at the skin on the tips of his fingers. Iwaizumi can’t help seeing how red they are, white skin peeled up here and there. It doesn't look comfortable but Oikawa doesn’t show any signs of being in pain as he rips at the little pieces of skin.

Iwaizumi wishes he’d stop. 

“It’s just...embarrassing,” Oikawa mumbles finally. He doesn’t look up.

“Did you wet your bed again?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa drops his hand picking to shoot Iwaizumi a disgusted look, “What! No! What do you mean _again_!?”

“When you slept over after watching the new Godzilla—”

“I did not! Wet! Your Bed! That was Misu!”

“Misu is a good dog. She wouldn’t do that. It was you.”

“I was five!” Oikawa screams, the force of the outburst causing his face to become more akin to a tomato than a human. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, leaning over to pull the boy’s ear.

“Why are you so embarrassed if you survived that?”

Oikawa glowers, swatting the hand from his ear to rub the skin there. He looks down, hands dropping to squeeze at his messed up sheets, and he spits it out in one breath, “Ihavetowearglasses.”

“What?”

Oikawa groans, falling back so he’s laying down. He kicks his feet out in aggravation, “I can’t see the board anymore! So now I have to wear glasses!”

Iwaizumi blinks, “Is that it?”

Oikawa sits up ramrod straight, “Is that it? Iwa-chan, don’t you see what this means? I’m going to be the laughing stock of Kitagawa Daichi! Everyone’s going to ignore me! I’ll never get a girlfriend! I’ll get kicked off the volleyball team! Kageyama will take my place with his stupid perfect eyes!”

Iwaizumi squints at him, “I think you’re overreacting.”

“I’m going to be ugly.”

“You’re already ugly.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cries, bringing his sheets up to scream into the fabric. Iwaizumi sighs, patting his back in an attempt at sympathy. 

“Koneko-sensei wears glasses and she isn’t ugly.”

“She’s old. All old people have glasses eventually. I’m still in my youth.” Oikawa rolls to his side bringing his sheets with him to cocoon himself, “My life is over.”

“You’re being stupid.”

“Everyone’s gonna laugh at me,” Oikawa continues, undeterred, “I’m gonna lose all my friends and I’ll have to drop out and live in a box.”

“No one’s going to laugh at you,” Iwaizumi snaps, getting annoyed by all the dramatics at this point. He should have just gotten his gym bag. 

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause I’ll beat them up if they do,” Iwaizumi shrugs, “Just like in elementary school.”

Oikawa pauses, biting his lip. The longer the silence the hotter Iwaizumi’s ears burn, for whatever reason. Oikawa still doesn’t turn to face him, “What if Iwa-chan makes fun of me for them?”

“I won’t.” And even Iwaizumi is surprised by how seriously he says it. But it’s true. He won’t. Not if it bothers Oikawa like this. 

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

And that was that. And the next day Oikawa didn’t even wear his glasses. Instead he gave the teacher a note to change his seat to the front of the class, and the days returned to normalcy for weeks and months and years.

Iwaizumi had never even gotten to see him with his glasses. 

At some point he thought he’d dreamed it all up.

* * *

It wasn’t a dream. Unless he was dreaming right now. Maybe he was still asleep atop his desk? He stabs his arm with his pen and all he gets for it is a sting of hot pain and a black ink dot embedded into his skin. 

It’s not a dream. 

Oikawa is wearing his glasses. Glasses he must have had the _whole_ time, ever since middle school. Why is this the first time Iwaizumi sees them on? His mind races. Three years of high school together. 2nd year they weren’t in the same class, but 1st year and this year they were. Oikawa always sat in the front somehow, even when they switched seats half way through the year through random lottery.

Oikawa _always_ got front row. 

Iwaizumi just thought he was unlucky. 

Was his whole life a lie?

Oikawa wears glasses. 

Oikawa is wearing his glasses. 

Here. Right now. Beside him. 

He squeezes his fingers into his fists and it dawns on him, _why does he even care_?

They’re just glasses. 

He glances over to his side, and it feels like staring into the sun because it _hurts_ and he has to look away just as quickly. He can feel his face starting to burn from the UV rays, his hair starting to stick down against his forehead where the beads of sweat act like superglue. 

He rubs his thighs together uncomfortably. 

He needs to calm down. 

It’s just Oikawa. Stupid, dumb, bratty Oikawa. Snot nosed cry baby Oikawa. Loser Oikawa. 

He lets out a breath and looks back over at Oikawa. 

Oikawa turns to look at him too, raising a thin manicured eyebrow. His gaze pins him to his seat, like he’s a little kid who’s been bad, who needs to be taught a lesson, who needs to be put in his place by this older Oikawa. This grown Oikawa, with a jaw so sharp it would cut through his skin, face stern and unforgiving, his voice deeper and more commanding. 

And it’s not that Iwaizumi is _scared_ of this new Oikawa. 

It’s that he is _enthralled. _

He looks away quickly, burying his nose into his notebook and trying to clear his mind from images of Oikawa pinning him against the wall, telling him he needs to improve his grades, and offering him a proposition. Oikawa whispering in his ear, breath hot and humid, so close that the frame of his glasses dig into the side of Iwaizumi’s face and it stings in the same way spicy food scorches his tongue and makes him want _more_.

He wipes the sweat off his forehead and tears his gaze away from Oikawa’s stunning side profile. 

It’s not like he hadn’t realized his feelings for Oikawa were a bit more than friendly until know. He’d realized his second year of high school when Oikawa got his first girlfriend. He’d realized as soon as he named his irrational anger in that moment as jealousy. He knew. 

But thoughts of Oikawa had always been around the desire to hold his hand, to take care of him, to help him succeed in all his desires, to be there for him, to kiss him. 

Kiss him.

He wants Oikawa to kiss him. But not like he’d first dreamt, as a tentative touch of the lips and a blushing face, Iwaizumi’s hands holding his chin and pulling him closer reassuringly. 

No.

He wants Oikawa to _kiss _him. Hard. Suddenly. Glasses crashing into his face and digging into his cheek. Pulling back and scrutinizing him behind the thick frames, seeing every minuscule flaw of Iwaizumi’s and _still _wanting him to be his. 

Iwaizumi gropes for his water bottle and chugs down half of it, almost choking. Oikawa looks back at him with a frown, and the disappointment is palpable in the air and it feels like Iwaizumi is still choking. 

The air is too heavy. It sits sticky on his shoulders, tight around his biceps and he’s surprised his pen hasn’t burst from the pressure of his fist around it. 

Oikawa is so close to him Iwaizumi can _feel _the heat emanating off his body. It would be so easy to spread out his thighs and have them press against Oikawa, to overextend his arm and have it brush against his hand. But it would surely burn him, scarring his skin for the rest of eternity. 

Oikawa scribbles something down, eyes squinting behind the lens, and Iwaizumi wants nothing more than to be that piece of paper. To have all of Oikawa’s attention, to be worked by him, to be roughed up, to be _consumed._

And then class is over. As suddenly as it began. And the only reason Iwaizumi realizes this is Oikawa yanks his glasses off his nose and snaps them into their case, shoving them in his bag along with the rest of his things. 

It breaks the spell.

Somewhat. 

Oikawa is still attractive. But he’s youthful again, silly and sweet, and the one Iwaizumi has known forever. 

Although, in this moment, Oikawa does not look happy in the slightest as he stomps out of the room without a word.

Iwaizumi can’t find his voice, throat parched as he stuffs his bag with shaky hands. He looks down at himself, adjusts his pants and takes another calming breath before he can finally leave the classroom. 

Oikawa has not waited for him. 

He spots him outside the building, walking briskly into the cool night air. His long legs carry him easily, and Iwaizumi has to jog to catch up to him, “Oi! Slow down!”

Oikawa doesn’t respond to him, speeding up his steps and tightening his grip on his backpack straps. He keeps his gaze on his feet, frown so severe Iwaizumi worries his mouth will slip right off his face.

“Hey!” he shouts, trying to get his attention. He fails. He jogs a bit quicker to step in front of Oikawa, but the taller man just side steps past him. 

Iwaizumi can feel a vein throbbing in his head, so he reaches forward, grabbing a fistful of Oikawa’s backpack and wrenching him back. Oikawa flails, hands flinging out and spinning to try to keep himself from falling backwards. Iwaizumi doesn’t let him go, tipping him back onto stable ground. He keeps his grip tight, “What’s your problem?”

Oikawa glares at him, “What’s _my_ problem? What’s _your _problem, Iwa-chan?”

“What?”

“Back there! You! You!” Oikawa reddens, looking away to glower on the ground.

Iwaizumi lets go of him, feeling numbness crawl up his arm. 

Shit.

Did Oikawa know?

He feels ice creep into his veins.

Did he figure it out?

Did he...Did he hate him now?

His arteries freeze over, and the shards spike into his heart. 

Oikawa looks back at him fiercely and there is redness around his eyes, the beginnings of tears in their corners, and Iwaizumi feels his heart start to shatter. 

“You were making fun of me!”

And suddenly, the ice melts, and blood flows freely once more, sprinting through his veins to make up for the lost moment. He blinks, “Wait, what?”

“You promised! You promised you would never make fun of me for wearing my glasses! And then the one time,_ the one time, _I finally let you see me in them you spend the _whole_ hour laughing at me!”

Iwaizumi stares at him, dumbfounded. 

“Don’t play dumb with me Iwaizumi Hajime!” Oikawa cries. “You were staring at me the whole time!”

“You’re a moron. I was staring at you because you’re fucking hot,” Iwaizumi snaps back. 

The ice age returns to his chest when he realizes what he’s finally blurted out. The force of the freezing wind rattles his ribs, threatening to knock them off and pierce into his already bleeding heart.

“You think I’m hot?” Oikawa repeats.

Iwaizumi is frozen. And he fears if he even tries to move a single muscle he’ll shatter into pieces. And Oikawa, so disgusted by his sincere admission, will just sweep his shards into the gutter where he belongs.

“Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi is finally able to pry his mouth open despite his jaws screeching in protest, “Uh, no.”

It’s a poor attempt at lying. Oikawa sees right through him, but instead of acting smug he actually flushes, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I look stupid with glasses,” he mumbles.

Iwaizumi frowns, his own embarrassment forgotten at the sight of Oikawa’s nonsense, “What the hell are you talking about? You’re the hottest guy at school. And now you’re the hottest guy ever and its not fucking fair.”

“Not fair?”

Iwaizumi groans, face red and annoyed. His feet keep jumping up and down, his pants are uncomfortably tight, and he doesn’t want to tiptoe around this anymore. He’s already ruined everything. He might as well go big. He can just go live in the woods until graduation, and then go to a different school, and never face Oikawa ever again. 

“I like you, you idiot! Do you know how hard it is to get over that? When you’re so hot, and kind, and smart? And now you hit me with these glasses that make you ten times hotter than before? Even though it shouldn’t be possible? Fuck you, Oikawa.”

“You like me?”

“I’m going home,” Iwaizumi ignores him, hunching up his shoulders. Oikawa stops him by grabbing his forearm, so he can’t get far. 

“You can’t just say all that and walk away, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa says, “Give me! Give me a second to, to say something!”

“What’s there to say other than it’s gross and you hate me. I know already, let go. Sorry you thought I was making fun of you. Just, let go.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa growls, and Iwaizumi hates that even that noise is turning him on now, and picturing it coming out of Oikawa’s throat while his glasses are perched atop his nose is making his whole predicament all the worse. He’s so consumed with the idea he barely registers that Oikawa is blabbering at him, until, his ears catch, “-mean and stern and so I never would have hoped but I like you too, you jerk!”

“What?”

“Are you even listening to me!” Oikawa shrieks, getting redder. 

“You like me?”

“I’m going home,” Oikawa huffs quickly, trying to push past only for Iwaizumi to grab him this time. But instead of blabbering, the pressure in Iwaizumi chest becomes too much. He’s still not even sure he’s heard the other man correctly, but his entire body is on fire, and the steam in his heart needs to escape somewhere. So, he tugs him harshly, unbalancing him enough to bring his head down to Iwaizumi’s level and crash their lips together.

They pull away for a second, faces still close enough for their noses to touch, and Oikawa’s eyes are searching and wide. But then he blinks, and his gaze softens into something that makes Iwaizumi’s whole body melt.

And it feels like Oikawa is seeing him, all of him, clearly for the very first time. 

He kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> same iwaizumi, same. 
> 
> check out my twitter to scream about megane oikawa with me
> 
> until next time!


End file.
